Skull and Shackles

Naia: log 2

Was this really the adventure I was looking for? Did Father and Mother really put up with these swine at sea? I’ve learned to accept the smell (I fear I’m the only one here who knows how to bathe), but the mindless killing is getting to be much. Clearly it is my destiny to be here though, for if I wasn’t here who would send all these poor souls on their way? For instance, that Hearthstone beast decided to take her anger out on that poor old man, anger that was clearly misdirected. The only help she’ll get from me is helping her on her way out of this world, when she inevitably takes her anger out on something much stronger than herself. The captain of this vessel isn’t much of a saint either, pillaging random ports of their hard work and livelihood, even their people. At least he has the heart to leave most of them alive and with something to sustain themselves. Thankfully I’m not the only one around here who seeks a higher power, Sandara proves a helping hand when those are in need, and Crimson shares my beliefs and traditions (although a bit rough around the edges). I’m hoping something comes of this awful voyage, for now though it seems I’m stuck and will do my best to help those in need of faith and healing.

Post 1

Raised in the City of Sothis, Naia lived alone with her father Gareth, a charismatic fisherman with endless tales of the sea. One of these tales involve a terrible storm that cast him adrift far south into the open sea where he encountered a ghost ship, being a man of faith he called out to Pharasma to protect him from the undead legion bearing down on him. It was at this moment that an angel with burning hair and metallic wings descended upon the ghost ship and cast it out in a burst of light. The angel approached him and said she heard his call for help whilst nearby. He thanked her and wished to return his gratitude in any way. She asked first for his name and in return declared herself as Nuria. As it turns out she had gotten lost because she was unfamiliar with Golarion and it’s geography, so Gareth having lived under the stars guidence all his life near and on the sea offered to join her travels. In all reality though she may have had the power to find her way on her own, but had been alone for what seemed like eons trapped on this plane and Gareth was not an unsightly man, in fact he was quite the opposite. After a while and many adventurous tales later the two had a child together, unfortunately this family was not meant to last. Shortly after Nais birth Nuria’s bindings to this plane were finally broken and to Gareth’s surprise she vanished, her lasts words being “I couldn’t let you worry about the short time we’d have together but I wanted you to have something to remember me by and know I’ll always love you.” Gareth returned home knowing the sea was no place for a newborn child and took on his old career as a fisherman. There in Sothis Naia quickly learned the tasks of a fisherman, never wanting to leave her father’s side always wanting to hear tales about her mother, in return she helped him catch fish to sell at market. However as the years past his age and past wounds were quickly catching up with him. Fearing the loss of her father Naia joined the church of Pharasma to learn the ways of healing and water to keep up his health and ease the burden of his work. Unfortunately the life of a human seldom lasts long, so Gareth eventually died a very old and happy man. Now alone Naia took on the tasks set forth by the church and decided she would follow her parents footsteps and go on a journey of her own. Eventually making her way to the shackles on a merchant ship that was in for a surprise.

I have changed in many ways over the last few months. Life is erratic and unpredictable. I’ve never before experienced such freedom, nor have I ever felt so trapped. I have found that I have been neglecting my monastic training. If I am going to survive these times at sea, I will need to begin practicing once more.

It’s a question I’ve never thought of asking before. It was a question that never needed an answer. I barely ever thought about ships or the sea. To think about sailing a ship on water is similar to paying mind to the sun while living underground where the sun doesn’t shine.

I met one Captain before my time on the Wormwood. She was respected and fair. Leadership and the sea came easy to her. I don’t think her and I are much alike.

At the monastery, there were elders and masters. Their respect was earned by some, but for the youngest of us, it was just expected. The masters were respected, and that was it. They taught some, and advised more, but often did nothing but maintain a presence. Life on a vessels of criminals and social deviants does not work that way.

It is only by forming bonds and comradery, I was able to reach this level of respect. I take it with some reluctance, but also with honor and humility. These people have entrusted me to lead them, so, I will accept that burden.

Herrigan will surely be coming after us for reasons he can only see as treachery and mutinous. We will have to face him eventually. May the Wheel of Kharma show mercy on our actions.

Vaneet's Wormwood Journal Final Entry (6)

The island was far from peaceful and it was severely worse than a hand full of Grindylow.
A vessel transporting undead came upon this land and has forever altered it. The creatures and people here have been contaminated by death and now seeks to destroy all life they encounter.
This band of degenerates, Franceen and I were fortunate to make it out alive.
Fortunately we were able to rescue Tilli and Sandara. They have been friendly and having them around to watch our backs offers a certain level of reassurance.
When we returned to the ship, Scourge and Plugg were waiting for us. As many of us suspected, they meant to have us killed. They stowed those loyal to us below deck and sought to claim our lives as we approached the ship. We were able to hold our own and even put an end to Plugg. Scourge escaped, but is unlikely to last long on that island. Time will tell if we see the last of him, along with all the other horrors of that place.
We have now found ourselves unexpectedly free from our oppressors. However, there is much to decide. For the time being we will be our own crew and live a life of piracy. We will spend some time here at port to refurbish and upgrade our new ship.
For the time being at least, peace has come and we can breathe easy knowing there are more friends than enemies here.

Much has happened since my last entry. The wormwood took over a merchant vessel. It was violent, bloody and savage. The captain and quartermaster took far too much joy in conquering the livelihood of others. When the ship was taken, I was selected to join the skeleton crew charged with delivering the ship to port in order to be sold. Thus concluded our time on the Wormwood for Franceen and I.

There is clearly something stirring beneath the surface. Scourge and Plug have their own dark intentions. For this new ship, its cargo and the souls on board. The days are long and the blood runs freely. Loyalty is ever shifting and intentions darken with each passing glance. This is not a safe place for Franceen and I. Escape is still not an option, but freedom and survival remain the only priorities.

En route to port we encountered a vicious storm which severely damaged the ship. The ship was attached by a tribe of Grindylow. They came and left swiftly, and while doing so took Sandara and Tilli. Their lives were immediately dismissed by the captain and other officers.

Several of us were tasked with going ashore to fetch clean water. Will this present an opportunity for freedom? Time will tell, but if nothing else it will provide a brief respite in the constant danger of life aboard a ship of endless foes and suffering.

aka - Is Tali Truly a Quartermaster Now?

We now have a ship. Ramul is our captain. Vaneet is our navigator.

And I, Tali, am now our ship’s Quartermaster.

It is a duty I initially aimed to refuse. After all, in the pirate world, a quartermaster holds a high rank and a great deal of responsibility. And how can such a new pirate (indeed, to consider myself a pirate and be considered a pirate is still such a novelty) take on this task?

However, considering my heritage as Ratfolk, it makes sense. We Ratfolk have long been known as tenders, keepers, guardians, and yes — hoarders. I am fulfilling my destiny as a pirate and as a Ratfolk being.

We inhabbit vessels which carry our contiousnous. They are our extention to the world around us and to others. Th body is a home to the spirit, and as such, we should do our best to keep the body healthy. A disciplined mind leads to a healthy body.

We are all moving spirits, interacting with oneanother. Be friendly and helpful to those in your community, and they will have reason to return the favor. Kharma is receiving back what we give to the world.

All actions should have a reason. Without a reason, an action serves no purpose. To take a life without meaning is a sin, and will be returned back through kharma. To feed yourself or for self defense are acceptable, and with just cause, many things can be reasonable. Cruelty and malevolence are not.

The air smells of salt and spice. Even boxed, the contents are aromatic. It’s been three days at sea to Port Peril. Manaket and the sands of Rahadoum have nothing left for me.

Father was a being of water and magic. Mother hid me away for that. I was not meant to walk among men. There was a temple in the desert that was once lush and fertile, but now was merely a godless house where monks trained to be there physical best. The temple was accepting as anywhere could be for those like me. The fed me and provided shelter, so long as I could work. I could tell I was secondary, not allowed to train with or meditate with the students. But it was a life of moderate acceptance for which I was grateful. And I picked up some basic forms from watching them in my spare time. We stayed there at the temple for many years. But being mortal in a land where the Gods neglect, she had taken on a harsh sickness. Inevitably, she died.

After mother’s death, I made my way to the coast. Upon entering Manaket, I could tell why she tried to protect me. I only spent a few months there working at the dock before catching a ride to Botosani. The people there were better, but it was still mostly the same. I needed to leave.

Merchant ships will hire fast, but I know not where my future is. Many of these sailors are just like those from my entire life: untrusting, suspicious and hateful. From Port Peril, I can make it to just about anywhere.

Tali Tail Time

Yet Another Tali Tail

Has time been wasted? Is life being lost, moment by moment, in an atmosphere I did not choose, having been held on a ship against my will, and carrying out duties only because my life depends on it?

At first glance there appears to be a paradox with us Ratfolk. Over the ages, we have been able to adapt to any sort of environment and regime. At the same time, we also hold a narrative of being our own guides in life, of determiners of our own fates. It hearkens to a sense of “doing the best one can wherever one happens to find oneself.”

Can I apply that here? Have I already done so without realizing it?

Much has changed these weeks. Already I am becoming a sailor. A pirate. I am stronger, more swift and adept. My thinking has become sharper. I still falter, but only because I am meeting greater challenges and learning to meet them. I can fight. I have now killed.

It is good that my skills have arrived to a new level. I and several others are leaving the ship that was our prison to run as a skeleton crew for a ship we have taken over.

Another Tali Tail (Tale)

Entry 4

The madness is never ending. The rest of the new crew is now being assigned their daily tasks for the sheer amusement of these twisted officers. Fortunately for me I am out of their gaze and safe from their wicked plans.
They had us train to board ships, and it’s clear they have no regard for the safety or survival of the crew in the event of an emdny vessels encounter.
The list of allies grows, but so do the looks of wicked plans on the faces of those wishing harm upon us. I know not how each day will ever end, but I worry more and more that they will do so with sorrow.

Entry 3

Days had began running together. Work followed by blood followed by politics, day after day.
But then something happened to breathe life into the ship and crew. A storm, fierce as they come. I tried to warn the officers and they paid no mind to what I had to say. They likely knew it as well, but offered nothing in way of comfort, nothing to indicate a plan. When it happened I saw what I doubted this crew could ever do. They came together and worked towards a common goal with what from an outside eye could be mistaken for solidarity.
Barefoot Sam went over-board during the torrent of water and wind. Rumal and I were the first act. He secured a line to and I jumped in. It was nothing I hadn’t done a million times before. When I reached her, I could tell she didn’t have long. She had lost all energy to fight the sea and was beginning to sink beneath the surface. I was able to grab hold of her and Rumal pulled us in. She was grateful for us saving her life. Though she has it in her mind that it was I alone who made the difference between an eternal rest at sea and walking once again on the decks of the Wormwood. I tried to tell her otherwise, but she seems convinced.
Several of us were sent out to collect crabs from among the reefs, including Rumal. True to our race, we had no troubles traversing the terrain. We were attacked by some form of creature, which proved to be very troublesome. If not for Franceen, there is no way we all would have made it back. Franceen loved the chance to get out from the ship. To swim free and hunt. She made sport of our attackers and playfully swam back with one in her grasp. It was as if she wanted to be the one to get all the credit for these kills.
Life on the Wormwood is bearable, though I still worry that the worst is yet to come. That there are dark trials that lay ahead and there will come a time when we return significantly less intact. Or find that some of us, don’t return at all.

#2 Post ~ Tali

It’s getting to the point where I’m collecting my bearings and am aiming to not only survive, but to make the use of my supposed inherited resourcefulness (if it’s in there somewhere, now’s the time for it to make an appearance).

I’m looking around, observing, no longer in denial about the realities of this current fate. Acceptance is creeping in. Following it is a thin trickle of hope that if my wits form an allegiance with Fortune, I may eventually get out of this place. This ship.

Not that the trials have alleviated. If anything, some new challenges have arisen – I have now received my beatings along with everyone else. But through the daily burdens and constant slog of endless work, I’m becoming accustomed to the rhythm of life here and it’s beginning to form a background in my mind, a stage upon which I can start to think about other things.

And to start thinking about the others on this ship. Initially I kept to myself, not knowing if any form of trust or bond was ever possible here. I assumed everyone else functioned the same, more or less — out for oneself, due more to practical survival than any reflected character trait. At times I have acted in ways that later shamed me — such as sneaking away from conflict and leaving my fellow passengers to fend for themselves.

But glimpses of another way, another attitude, are being revealed. I am seeing some of the others here act as comrades, banding together and assisting one another.

Entry 2

It’s been a few days here on the Wormwood and little has changed in way of hospitality or kindness. The “bloody hour” continues to claim those who struggle and the officers take great pleasure making things difficult for all below them.
On a more positive note, Franceen has settled in nicely and is enjoying not having to catch her food. Thank goodness she is being left alone to her space.
I have been getting to know Kroop while working in the kitchen and have learned that the basic crew are not the only ones here against their will. He used to have a life away from this place. But he wagered his freedom to the captain and lost. Now he suffers here for the rest of his days so long as the situation remains as it is.
Kroop and I get along nicely now and he’s helping me get by better than before. He even showed off some of his culinary skills in a brief moment of sobriety.
I have been talking to Grock and it’s clear her life has been a difficult one. Maybe there too I will find a friend within this tangle of despair and blood.